


If I Could Sleep Forever

by likeasugarcube



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Insomnia, M/M, Neck Kissing, Sappy Ending, Sleepy Cuddles, Tour Bus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 21:24:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8463463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeasugarcube/pseuds/likeasugarcube
Summary: "I can't sleep."
Patrick huffs out a laugh. "What else is new?" he says, his voice raspy and full of sleep. He lifts up his blanket and whispers, "Come on."





	

Pete can't sleep. 

The noises of the bus bother him in a way the rattling of their barely held together van never did.

He climbs down from his bunk and tugs back the curtain on Patrick's. Patrick who can sleep anywhere, at any time, Patrick who has been asleep for hours already. 

"Rick," he whispers loudly. He nudges Patrick's shoulder until Patrick finally rolls over, and blinks sleepily at Pete.

"I can't sleep."

Patrick huffs out a laugh. "What else is new?" he says, his voice raspy and full of sleep. He lifts up his blanket and whispers, "Come on."

Pete climbs in next to him, cuddles up as close as possible and slides an arm around Patrick's waist. It's still a while before he manages to fall asleep, but he doesn't feel as uneasy with Patrick warm beside him as he did alone in his bunk. 

When he wakes it's still too early, everyone else is still asleep. Still, six hours is better than his usual three or four, so he considers it a success.

Pete sits up, scratching his head, and Patrick shifts in his sleep. He snuggles against his pillow and pulls his blanket tight around him.

Pete really wants to kiss him. He thinks of soft sleepy wake up kisses and Patrick's arm curling tight around him, Patrick's groggy voice telling him to go back to sleep. The rumbling in his stomach keeps his mind off the ache in his chest and instead he whispers, "Thank you," before climbing out of bed and wandering off in search of food.

\--

Pete is wired. He feels like he's going to vibrate right out of his skin. How can he be expected to sleep now? Sleep would be a waste when there are so many thoughts, so many ideas buzzing around his head. He leans in and kisses the side of Patrick's face and Patrick makes a small sleepy sound. Pete does it again, he can't help himself. He holds his breath, waiting for the backlash. 

Patrick exhales. 

Pete lets out the breath he was holding and buries his face in Patrick's neck. Patrick's skin is warm and Pete finds he has to kiss him there too. He waits again, watching for any signs that Patrick might be waking up. But his breathing is even and his eyes don't flutter open the way Pete keeps expecting them to. 

He presses his lips to Patrick's skin again and again, counting off kisses in his head and wondering how long before he pushes too far. He gets to fifty-three before he finally falls asleep.

\--

"Hey." Patrick smiles at him. He's got the latest issue of Rolling Stone in his hand. Pete didn't think he would be up so late.

"I can leave you alone if you want."

Patrick shakes his head. "I was just going to finish up this article and go to sleep."

Pete hesitates. "I don't want to bother you," he says, stepping back.

"Just get the fuck in here already."

Pete climbs in and hooks his chin over Patrick's shoulder as he reads. He taps out an unsteady beat on Patrick's ribs until Patrick finally sets the magazine down and turns to face him.

"Did you take anything to help you sleep?" Patrick asks.

"Yeah," Pete lies. The new stuff he's on is practically useless. Most nights he doesn't even bother.

Patrick reaches up and brushes Pete's bangs out of his eyes.

"Close your eyes," he says. Pete takes a breath and does as he's told.

Patrick runs his fingers through Pete's hair and rubs his forehead. Pete lets himself focus on the feeling of Patrick's fingertips against his skin and relaxes a little. He thinks if Patrick could keep this up for an hour or so he might be able to fall asleep.

He stops a few minutes later. Pete sighs because he knew that was too good to last. But then he feels the back of Patrick's knuckles grazing over his cheek, his hand sliding down and rubbing at the base of his neck.

"Patrick," Pete whispers, his eyes still closed.

"Yeah?" Patrick asks, his fingers kneading at Pete's shoulder.

"Can you -- can you turn off the light?"

"Sure." 

Patrick's hand leaves his skin and Pete listens for the click as he turns off the light in his bunk.

"Did that help at all?"

"It felt good," Pete tells him. He wishes he could give Patrick the answer he's looking for.

"If I keep doing it, will it help you sleep?"

"You don't have to."

"That's not an answer." 

Patrick slides an arm around his waist and pulls him closer. So close that their knees are touching, so close that Pete can feel Patrick's breath on his face. Patrick rubs in circles at the small of his back, underneath his t-shirt. Pete, feeling momentarily brave, reaches up and traces his fingers over Patrick's collarbone, along his neck.

"Why do you let me do this?" Pete says quietly.

"Do what?"

"Crawl into your bed, invade your space, touch you when I know you don't – " Pete cuts himself off. 

He's letting himself ramble on too few hours of sleep and it's going to get him in trouble. He's always pushing and he knows one day he'll push too far. He just doesn't want this to be that day. He's not ready to give this up yet.

"I don't what?" Patrick covers Pete's hand with his own. Stops his motions.

"Nothing, never mind," Pete says. Even in the darkness Pete can tell Patrick is giving him a skeptical look. Patrick's too good at seeing through his bullshit. "It's nothing, really. Do you think you could…could you rub my back some more?"

The stretch of silence that follows seems to last forever. Pete is two seconds away from writing this night off as the time he ruined everything and going back to his own bed when Patrick lets go of his hand and slides it underneath his shirt once more.

"Sure," he says. 

Pete snuggles closer and buries his face in Patrick's t-shirt, both his hands tucked tight against his own chest. He listens to Patrick's heartbeat and wonders what it is that makes him take chances with the things he holds most dear.

\--

They stumble onto the bus the next night after the show and Pete grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and collapses onto the couch in the front lounge. It's unusually quiet for an extended period of time and Pete turns around to see the rest of his band in some sort of conference. Andy and Joe nod at Patrick and head toward the bunks as Patrick walks over to the couch.

"Dude, what was that all about?" Pete asks. "You're not voting me off the island are you?"

Patrick laughs as he sits down next to him.

"Nope. I just want to talk."

"About?" Pete has had too many people say that to him to be anything but wary.

"Last night," Patrick says, looking a little nervous. He's fidgeting the way he does in interviews when he doesn't know what to say.

"If you want me to stop, I will. Just tell me to fuck off and go back to my own bunk," Pete says, trying to sound as casual as he can.

Patrick shakes his head. "It's not that." He scratches the back of his neck and fiddles with his hat. "I -- I need to know what you were going to stay last night. I don't what?"

"I told you, it's nothing. I was fucking rambling, wasn't making any sense."

"If it's nothing then just fucking tell me." Patrick's voice has gotten louder, gone from nervous to pissed right the fuck off. Pete really doesn't want to end the day with a fistfight. He stays silent as long as he can, until Patrick shoves at his shoulder and says, "Answer me, asshole."

"You don't _want_ me," Pete spits out angrily. "Happy? I know you don't want me the way I want you and I don't understand why you fucking put up with me."

Pete stands to leave but Patrick catches him by the wrist before he can walk away.

"Pete," he says softly. His thumb is rubbing circles on the inside of Pete's wrist.

"No, I can't listen to you tell me it's all right and we can pretend I never said anything."

"Will you shut up and listen for minute?" Patrick tugs on his wrist and Pete reluctantly sits back down. "I don't tell you to fuck off and go sleep in your bunk because you sleep better when you're next to me. Because you're my best friend and I love you and I fucking worry about you and I'd do anything to try and help you."

The words came at Pete too fast and it takes him a minute before he can process everything that Patrick just said. That in between the "best friend" and the "worry about you" -- which he already knew about -- there was an "I love you."

"What?"

"You kissed me for over an hour and I didn't tell you to stop. You really think I don't want you back?"

Pete looks away, mumbles, "I thought you were asleep."

"And I thought you were smarter than this," Patrick says.

"Hey," Pete starts. He loses his train of thought when Patrick scoots closer and curls a hand around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in Pete's hair as he places soft kisses along Pete's jaw. Patrick leans back just enough to look Pete in the eye and smile at him before he presses his mouth to Pete's.

"You wanna go to bed and see if we can break your old record?"

Pete really doesn't need to be asked twice. He tries to keep track, but loses count somewhere after they pass fifty. Pete falls asleep with one hand underneath Patrick's shirt and his feet tucked between Patrick's legs.

**Author's Note:**

> I found this in an old folder of unfinished fic. Apparently I wrote this in 2009. I think I never posted it because I wasn't super happy with the ending but seeing as it's been nearly seven years, I don't think I'm going to rewrite it so I figured I might as well post it. Title from a Dandy Warhol song.


End file.
